


Haunted

by Veritable_Wasteland



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, recreational drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritable_Wasteland/pseuds/Veritable_Wasteland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Axel?” Roxas asks, flat on his back, eyes skyward. His bottle is empty now, precariously balancing on his sternum. “Do you think it’s possible for the living to haunt the living?”</p><p>A short story of drunken confessions while Alt-J plays on repeat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> This story is what happens when you listen to "Haunted" by Beyonce on repeat until 4am.

 

“ _I know if I’m haunting you, you must be haunting me…”_

* * *

 

Roxas is what some might call a “philosophical drunk”. He saves his more revolutionary thoughts and ideas tucked away until the tendrils of inebriation wind their way around the fingers of his inhibitions, plucking at each one digit by digit until they all fall away. As he lays on the overstuffed loveseat, hand wrapped around the neck of his 4th bottle of Yuengling, he keeps his voice even and calm. There is no anger here, no bitterness, just a free-flowing dialogue.

Axel’s sitting inches away in some old throw-away recliner he found on a curb a year ago, a newly opened New Castle in his lap. He thinks everything Roxas has to say is gold. He responds with smiles and gentle touches that linger on tanned skin for a few seconds too long. Roxas is so faded he doesn’t realize. Axel makes a sound of agreement as Roxas explains that the only reason the dystopian genre is so popular right now is because we’re living in one. It’s just easier to watch someone who has it worse. Someone who’s brave enough to stand up and be what we can’t.  Because we’re all “sheeple”.

Only Axel gets to see Roxas like this. He feels privileged to see Roxas behind the frequent scowl and the “little boy lost” expression that the blond refuses to acknowledge even exists. All of this wrapped up in a mask of wit and sarcasm he’d managed to perfect in his 22 years of life. Axel had been chipping away at Roxas’ façade since the day the two had met their sophomore year of high school. Roxas was the new kid, baby-faced and innocent looking with hair so blond and bright it, as corny as it sounds, rivaled the sun. Axel was already towering over majority of their class. Lanky and awkward in his movements but intimidating nonetheless with his shocking red mane and narrow green eyes. Axel was simply in need of a new lackey for his, sometimes bordering on illegal, shenanigans. Roxas, unaware of his reputation, was a perfect candidate. Unfortunately and luckily Roxas was no push-over and Axel received a black eye for his Fuckery (because who in their right mind would attempt to break into their neighbor’s house for eggs?). And in turn, Roxas gained Axel’s respect.

Later, that respect would turn into love.

The red-haired man thinks of brushing a stray blond lock from his best friend’s face as he watches him speak. Green eyes fix on Roxas’ mouth as his lips wrap around each consonant and his jaw works each vowel. He no longer has the mental strength to not be obvious and to not catalogue these images away later. Images that would become the still-born ghosts of Roxas in his sheets as he slept alone later that night.

Axel scrubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand for a solid thirty seconds before he realizes silence has nestled around the room, sans the sounds of Alt-J from a nearby speaker.

“Axel?” Roxas asks, flat on his back, eyes skyward. His bottle is empty now, precariously balancing on his sternum.

“Hm?” He’s watching his friend curiously.  The redhead is never sure where these 2am conversations will go after Roxas is done verbally fixing the world and their favorite album is on its third play-through.

“Do you think it’s possible for the living to haunt the living?”

A red eyebrow quirks upwards and he takes a glance over at Roxas to make sure he’s not tripping on ‘shrooms as well as drunk. Axel had learned the hard way not to trip with Roxas. Last time the blond decided that Skittles would make good confetti and a year later he was still finding them in between the couch cushions. The redhead thinks for a moment before replying.

 “What goes around, ghosts around.” Axel replies cryptically, taking a deep swig of his beer and easily finishes the bottle. When he looks up, blue eyes, glossed over and struggling to focus, are trained on him.

“Why didn’t you go on that date with that one guy?” Roxas asks, tripping over his words a little. Stuttering, not quite slurring, he pauses too long between every third word.

“Well, for starters he kept calling me ‘Axie’. One should not be in a homicidal mindset hours before going out with someone. Lifehack number 45.” Axel snorts.

Roxas hums. “Xion doesn’t think so. Says you bail too much on everyone. Always a reason.”

“Xion’s supposed to be off backpacking around foreign places and “finding herself” before grad school, not being a Nosy Nellie.” Axel grabs another beer and holds the cool bottle in his shaky hands.

“She-she said it was because he wasn’t blond?”

Roxas says each word delicately but they still hit Axel’s gut devastatingly hard. His eyes shoot up from the glass bottle in his hand and catch Roxas’ gaze. The cerulean blue stare is unwavering and Axel can feel him searching the way he always does when he already knows the answer to something.  

“Do you have a thing for blond guys, Axel?”  Roxas asks and his voice much lower. The loaded question leaves the redhead’s jaw working silently. Instead of waiting for an answer, Roxas makes a move. His feet hit the carpet quietly and like a newborn foal he struggles to find his balance. His body sways, the weight of the alcohol pushing and pulling his wavering stance as he moves towards the recliner. He unceremoniously plops onto Axel’s lap. “Am I haunting you, Axel? The way you haunt me?”

Axel stares at Roxas’ lips. They’re still moist with droplets of the amber liquid he’d been drinking. The taller man can feel his face flushing from more than just alcohol. All of a sudden the room is suffocating and Axel can’t fucking breathe as his stomach twists itself into a pretzel. There’s a mixture of fear and loathing with a side of denial building up in his throat.

But Roxas doesn’t wait for a verbal reply. He takes the initiative and grabs the collar of Axel’s t-shirt pulling him down until their lips smash together like two teens sneaking their first kiss on an adult chaperoned date. It's fast and painful, their noses smooshed together because they’re so close and there’s no time to remember the mechanics of kissing. Axel pulls back first, feeling both sober and incredibly drunk. Then he tries again, this time moving slowly and weaving fingers into Roxas’ mussed hair. He tilts his head just so and their lips meld gently. Roxas’ grip on Axel’s shirt loosens instead snaking around the taller man’s neck, desperate whines escaping each time Axel gently nips at his bottom lip. It takes a Herculean amount of effort but Axel pulls away and Roxas blinks at him owlishly.

“We should stop.  Together we’ve probably drank the alcohol equivalent of the Mississippi River and I don’t want to wake up and not know what happened,” Axel places his hands on either side of Roxas’ face and touches their foreheads together. “I want to remember everything.”

It takes a moment for Roxas to fully register what Axel means but when he does he nods in agreement. He wriggles his way out of Axel’s lap and the red-haired man immediately misses the added weight. Roxas makes a move to go back to the couch. The place he usually sleeps when he stays over at Axel’s but a large calloused hand on his wrist stops him.

“But you’re definitely not sleeping there.”

The two amble like bow-legged toddlers to Axel’s room and flop onto the bed and immediately curl around each other tightly out of fear that like countless nights before, the warmth of another body would vanish. Another apparition in the sheets.

When the sun crept into its place the next morning and the pair woke cotton-mouthed and stiff, a mild pounding in their temples, they were glad to find that alcohol and drunken kisses was just enough to exorcise a living ghost.

* * *

 

“ _I know if I'm onto you, you must be onto me.”_  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Total shoutout to Yumi for editing this. If you liked this please comment or leave a kudos and if you have any story requests, suggestions, criticisms find me derping around on tumblr at veritablewasteland.tumblr.com


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